Biffy Clyro, and Santa comes early this year

Woo! Weekend! And to kick it all off, I am off to see Biffy Clyro at the SECC tonight. Which will take crackerjack timing and lots of planning – I have to bring my civvies, my sarnies, the sums and the ticket, plus ID to get to the bank and get money – for the cashcard is Here! But the PIN, is not – and everything must fit in a Handbag. It must look horribly like I’m attempting to move into my desk drawer. Do I regret going for a wee cheap glass of red last night? Yes – but if I hadn’t, it would still not remotely cover tonight’s expenses, because I refuse to walk six chuffing miles through the frost and drink water at the end of it.

Ahead of this, I rocked with my box out at work! Not literally, but that’s all my work up to date, I covered some of my Cellmate’s work while she was requisitioned at another hospital, I applied for a completely different job that I won’t get but at least the guy on the phone was very nice, and said I sound perfect and he looks forward to seeing my Form (damn, I thought he’d laugh at my ideas above my station like they usually do. I have to actually fill the Form in, now). And many things got sorted and my desk got cleared and I was just punching the air and yelling, Boo-yah! (er, as you do) when I realised I had accidentally saved over a rather important letter, and I’d already erased the tape. Bugger. That’s what happens when you jackboot about how great you are. Mercifully, I can remember the gist of most of the letter. I just can’t remember what we said we’d do, there.

Fine, you can be Monday’s first Brown Trousers moment, I am off to the pub to do Sums!

Note to self: don’t tell people that, they look at you like you’re insane.

[The internet counts – Ed.]

But tonight, the bank forked over my cash and the maths obeyed me, at least till I got to the bit where I had to calculate bending moments for uniformly distributed loads, which I can’t remember off the top of my head how it goes (we aren’t supposed to memorise this stuff, right? We get look-up tables and notes and calculators? Please? If I was building a bridge, I sure wouldn’t be doing it off the back of an envelope!)

And I found a quicker route into town, hurrah. And the queue at the bar was not ferocious, and I got a nice place to collapse against a wall and still get a good view of the Futureheads. God, weeks of having Uncertain energy levels have left me quite paranoid – I still don’t know for sure if a mere stroll into a desk-job and back, followed by some sums (which are also usualy done sitting down), will leave me unable to stay awake the next evening. Or worse, unable to get out of bed at all. It’s been fairly grim. Well, until I remember that there are some corkingly horrible diseases out there and I’m lucky to live in the first world at all and I should suck it up and get on with it, eh. Just, cautiously.

Well, and didn’t the tallest guy in the entire audience come and stand between me and my view of the stage. I swear to god, I was triangulating off other folks’ heads (these look tall, but those are… far away), and he still towered over them all. His mates barely came up to his ears.

Still, I was in a mellow and tranquil mood after a couple of hours’ chilling out with the walking and the sums, so I went out for a fag in between bands. Praying that nobody would come stumbling up to demand my company and break the spell. Of course, the universe Knows, so it sent me company anyway. Score! It sent a lovely old chap who came up and started talking to me about the origin of the word for left-handed (‘sinister’) and told me about the shocking sights he’d seen in the middle east (beheadings) and his socialism. I was very tempted to stay out there and chat, but I was almost invisible behind a plume of my own breath by this point (even when not smoking) so we had to go back in. Man, and I was in thermals under my jeans – there were folks out there in bare legs and one lassie who’d lost a plimsol and was standing on the concrete in her bare foot (which is what kicked off the conversation).

Biffy were superb. And stripped to the waist, hurrah, and also wearing what appeared to be thermals, hee. There was an acoustic bit in the middle where the big chandelier of Christmas lights that I had noticed earlier came down and covered your man like a large and gilded cage, and being a bear of little brain who is excited by shiny lights, I enjoyed that probably more than I should have done. I also enjoyed watching all the nearby couples baying Many of Horror at each other, while wrapped in positions rather more suggestive of folks being caught in the middle of commiting murder. Then I wondered how many of them would be together this time next year, which was a bit depressing really, oops.

Afterwards, I stomped out to get a cab (feckless spendthrift chicken, I know, I know) and realised it was snowing! Woo! Snow has come early! And it was Lying and everything! Awesome! In fact, when I went through to brush my teeth and looked out the bathroom window, I discovered…

the water’s off. No, really. No water in any of the taps. Christ, does this mean the combi-boiler will explode when it tries to heat the radiators? Apparently not; but, does this mean my pipes have burst?

Dammit, Santa! I wanted a DeWalt cordless 18v drill, not empty taps!

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About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
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